It had to be a Monday morning.
It had to be in the early hours.
The first stage
Of the first day
Of the week
Just so that it could sit and stew in our heads
All the longer.
Just so that we could brood over it
And have more time to grow bitter
And resentful
He was born from it
And he died from it
Without purpose
Just like he’d feared.
Just like he felt.
Just like he knew.
So now what?
Are we damned?
Damned to sit and think about it?
About what could’ve been different?
About what could’ve changed?
As I listen to the cold breeze blow past me
I can see
That it wasn’t meant to be.
It was naivety…
I miss the times that we swam ‘cross love’s most golden shores…
You were all that I really wanted; all that I asked for, nothing more.
All that I longed for; just to be in that enchanted place.
But all that I received in return was the cold wind in my face.
Should I just take this
Sitting down?
Am I wrong to resist?
Am I wrong to refuse
To give up?
She killed him…
She is to blame.
He could’ve lived
If she’d wanted him to.
But instead we march
To the beat of hell’s drum;
To the beat of her drum.
What did he miss?
What did he fail to see?
What did he refuse to see?
He was done in by his naivety.
What more could’ve been done?
What could have saved him?
What could have spared him?
What could have let him carry on?
The very rocks he was cast upon.
He didn’t see…
He didn’t want to see…
He didn’t want to believe that she wasn’t his
Perfect picture of celestial bliss.
He didn’t want to see what he feared was there.
What he knew was there.
Nothing.
A cold, cruel nothing.
A sadistic, evil nothing.
A bitter, resentful nothing.
A frigid, bloody nothing.
A black vacuum
Just sucking his own livelihood
Just stealing his very essence
Just robbing him
Of the will to live
Until he had nothing
Left to give
And nothing was left to exist.
I’ll answer your call
Your call to hell
You’ve sucked me in for the last time
And now I’ll retaliate
With a fury of my own…
But what about her?
Will this burden
Not be cast upon her shoulders?
Will she not carry this wrongdoing
This complacent murder
The torrential pain
That she caused us all
For the rest of her days?
Will she not see
What could not be?
Once again, naivety.
What’s left of that
Black Monday?
What’s left of
What once was?
What could’ve been?
What could not be?
What?
What, God damn it, what?
What can I do
To make it go away?
What can I do
To feel whole again?
What can I do
To feel significant
To feel
Real?
Why?
Why did it happen here,
To us?
Why did it have to destroy all that we’ve worked for?
All that we’ve created?
Why did she kill it all?
Why?
Why do we chase
After shooting stars?
You cannot imprison destiny
Within a jar.
A hellish pain I’ve felt and seen…
Burned by my own sunbeam.
Struck dead by Death’s angel who came from above
To tell me that I was not meant to be loved.
So we’re left with our pain.
The pain we’ve felt in vain
Caused by her vanity…
And I will accept death.
I will accept the hand dealt to me
By the hateful fates.
I will stare it down.
One of us will blink.
All things die.
All things perish.
All things meet their epitaph.
But am I wrong to feel spite?
To hate,
To love,
They mix together,
Like the smudged paints
On hell’s palette.
The beginning
And the end.
It had to be.
